Alfgar the Dane or the Second Chronicle of Aescendune eBook

And so the last sad words of adieu were spoken as
bravely as might be, and the little troop, about fifty
in number, departed from the hall. They crossed
the rude wooden bridge, and took the southern road.

Their loved ones watched them until the last.
They saw their warriors cast many a longing lingering
look behind, and then the woodland hid them from sight;
and a dread quiet came down upon Aescendune, as when
the air is still before the coming hurricane.

CHAPTER V. THE TRACKS IN THE FOREST.

It was a long time before any news of the warriors
reached home; for in those days the agony of suspense
had always to be endured in the absence of posts and
telegrams; but after a few weeks a special messenger
came from the army. He was one of the Aescendune
people, and his was the great privilege of embracing
wife and family once more ere returning to the perils
of the field.

His news was brief. The forces of Mercia had
been placed under the command of Edric, formerly the
sheriff of the county in which Aescendune lay, but
long since returned to court, where his smooth tongue
gained him great wealth and high rank. Gifted
with a subtle genius and persuasive eloquence, he
had obtained a complete ascendency over the mind of
the weak Ethelred, while he surpassed even that treacherous
monarch in perfidy and cruelty.

Under his direction that unhappy king had again and
again embrued his hands in innocent blood. This
very year they had both given a proof of these tendencies
worth recording.

Edric had conceived a hatred against the Ealdorman
Elfhelm, which he carefully concealed. He invited
that unfortunate lord to a banquet at Shrewsbury,
where he welcomed him as his intimate friend.
On the third or fourth day of the feast he took him
to hunt in a wood where he had prepared an ambuscade,
and while all the rest were engaged in the chase,
the common hangman of Shrewsbury, one Godwin “port
hund,” or the town’s hound, bribed by
Edric to commit the crime, sprang from behind a bush,
and foully assassinated the innocent ealdorman.
Not to be behind his favourite in cruelty, Ethelred
caused the two sons of the unfortunate Elfhelm to
be brought to him at Corsham, near Bath, where he
was then residing, and he ordered their eyes to be
put out.

Such was the man to whom the destinies of the English
army were now confided, and such the king who ruled
the unhappy land—­cruel as he was cowardly.

Under such leaders it is no marvel that the messenger
Ulric had no good news to tell. The army had
assembled, and had marched after the Danes, whose
policy for the present was to avoid a pitched battle,
and to destroy their enemies in detail. So they
were continually harassing the English forces, but
avoiding every occasion of fair fight. Did the
English march to a town under the impression the Danes
were about to attack it, they found no foe, but heard
the next day that some miserable district at a distance
had been cruelly ravaged. Did they lie in ambush,
the Danes took another road. Meanwhile the English
stragglers were repeatedly cut off; and did they despatch
a small force anywhere, it was sure to fall into an
ambush, and be annihilated by the pagans.